


Have You Got Your Own Broom?

by tayrulez



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Households, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - America, Alternate Universe - Australia, Alternate Universe - High School, Chemistry, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 01:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18420329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tayrulez/pseuds/tayrulez
Summary: This is my first story on this siteKudos and comments are appreciated





	Have You Got Your Own Broom?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story on this site  
> Kudos and comments are appreciated

Draco Malfoy is the poster bad boy of Hogwarts High. He smokes in the halls and rarely makes it to class on time, yet he isn’t failing any classes. He isn’t on honor roll, but he is sure to make at least a B on all assignments. His favorite teacher is also his godfather and guardian when his father is away. His father, Lucius is an extremely well known mob boss. His wife, Narcissa, used to be beautiful and gracious. Now, she sleeps in a drunken stupor and has trouble remembering small facts about her own son – like his age and name. Lucius often physically abuses Draco, though he is an expert in covering up any stray marks. Severus is aware of this, but does not meddle out of fear for his life.

 

Draco has natural platinum blond hair, exceptionally pale skin and piercing gray eyes. He wears the finest clothes to school, though some days he is dressed in more loose clothing. This is a silent warning to stay far away from him. Vincent Crabbe and Greg Goyle often march around the school with him acting as his personal bodyguards. Vincent usually gets into trouble and Greg gets distracted, but Draco hardly cares, as he isn’t fond of either of them. His only true friends are Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. Blaise’s father works for Draco’s. Pansy is the Malfoys’ across-the-street neighbor. She is very clingy and Draco frequently shoves her off onto some unsuspecting classmate.

 

Tom Riddle, codename Voldemort, is a mob boss from another corporate and another town. He was once the most feared man and still some shudder under his codename. He attacked Draco as a toddler, leaving him with an inerasable scar along the underside of his left elbow. Tom had also killed Harry Potter’s parents when the boy was barely half a year.

 

Harry had grown up with his domineering and abusive biological family. His uncle Vernon hated to be entrusted of the boy. He worked hard as a meat grinder all day to come home to an unfaithful wife, an ungrateful son and an unwanted nephew. While Harry is not in school, Petunia tortures him and underfeeds him… all the while cheating on her husband and praising her son Dudley for his violent behavior.

 

That has changed thankfully, over the past two months. Harry is now fifteen but could pass for an eleven-year-old. He has transferred and is now living with his godfather, Sirius Black, who has just been released from prison under the false arrest of murdering James and Lilly Evans Potter. Harry has great caution in talking, eating and other daily aspects. He is nervous about any type of physical contact.

 

Harry has shaggy chocolate brown hair he hardly brushes, a fair complexion – with the exception of a precise scar across his right eyebrow, the indication left by Riddle those many years ago – and deep emerald eyes covered by thin round eyeglasses. He has just been given his schedule and it is already the fifth week into the new year. Today is his first day. Sirius has just dropped him off and he is headed to his first class – History with Mr. Binns.

 

His head is lowered, attempting to read his copy of the school map when the force is suddenly knocked out of his breath. He looks up sheepishly, expecting a wall of some sort. Instead, he meets with nearly white hair and angry eyes. A boy his age is there, wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, silently fuming.

 

“Who the hell are you?” He finally asks with malice in his voice.

 

“I’m new.” Harry says quietly.

 

“What makes you think you’re so damn important you can just waltz around the halls like this? Huh?”

 

“You are.”

 

He replies shakily, noticing the others quickly move out of the way. Two pudgy-type boys suddenly surround them from nowhere. Harry doesn’t have time to think. Draco raises his fist and sails it across the new kid’s face. He balls his fists into the front of Harry’s shirt and leans in real close.

 

“Let me make it clear for you. My father is Lucius Malfoy. If I am angry, _he_ is angry. When Lucius Malfoy is angry, people don’t stay around too long. Capishe?”

 

Harry nods, despite not knowing who Lucius Malfoy is. The blond releases his grip, shoving the other boy hard into the nearby lockers. The bell rings for class to begin. The pudgy boys run to class while Draco sulks by himself. Harry catches his breath then starts searching again.

 

He eventually makes it to his history class, sliding in back as the teacher reads roll call. What surprises him is the lack of students. There are only eleven students present.

 

“… Nott, Theodore.”

 

A boy folding a paper football raises his hand.

 

“Potter, Harry.”

 

He raises his hand sheepishly. The teacher shoots him a quick look as if to say ‘don’t be late again.’

 

“Thomas, Dean.”

 

A boy up front, writing down names as well, raises his hand. The teacher shakes his head.

 

“Weasley, Ronald.”

 

The redheaded boy to Harry’s left shoots his head up in confusion. After roll, the class sails by pretty quickly. The teacher merely has a recap, with Harry learning mostly new things and the rest doodling and trying not to fall asleep. After class, Ron catches up to him in the hall.

 

“Binns isn’t too bad. There’s a recap ever so often in case we miss a class or a week, if you’re sick.”

 

Harry only nods. Ron attempts to pat Harry’s back before leaving but the brunette quickly moves out of the way. Ron raises an eyebrow but says nothing about it.

 

“Alright, well, I’ve got to get to algebra or Flitwick will kill me. See ya.”

 

“Oh, I gotta get going!” Harry exclaims aloud to no one in particular.

 

“Where are you going?” A big-boned boy dressed highly stops for a moment.

 

“Oh, um… Drive--”

 

“Driver’s Ed with Hooch is out back, behind the football stadium. She doesn’t like it when people are late. And five minutes early is on time.”

 

He turns on his heel and briskly walks away, as if feeling ashamed for talking with someone ‘less fortunate.’ Harry blinks after him then turns around and races to where the boy had said. As he faces the cold winds from outside, he glances around quickly. There is a crowd by the play area, the soccer field, the baseball diamond… but no one at the football stadium. He smiles inwardly and runs behind, excited that he made it first. He looks at his watch. Three minutes early _… so, two minutes late_ he amends to himself. Harry stands there, softly whistling as the bell rings, and for another five minutes. He is then overshadowed by two teachers, a man and a woman.

 

“Err, hi?”

 

“Mind telling me why you’re using the oldest hideout in the book to skip class?” The man asks.

 

“I’m not skipping.” Harry says defiantly.

 

“Watch your tone.” The woman reprimands him.

 

“I’m not skipping! I’m waiting for class!” He raises his voice at their insinuation.

 

“I’m warning you.” The man says. “How bout we take a trip to the principal’s office?”

 

“I, am not, skipping! I, am waiting, for, my teacher.”

 

“I told you to watch your tone.” The woman declares, thrusting a ripped note to his chest. “Think about _that_ in detention today.”

 

“Detention? For waiting for my teacher?”

 

The man rolls his eyes. “Get along, kid. I’ve gotta clean this place up.”

 

The woman sighs. “What class have you got?”

 

“Drive--”

 

“Driver’s ed. With Rolanda Hooch.”

 

“Yeah, how’d you guess?”

 

“There’s only one teacher for every class, Harry. We’re a small school.”

 

“How’d you know my name?”

 

“You’re the only student who didn’t say ‘here’ when I called roll. C’mon, you’re late for class.”

 

Harry sighs as Madam Hooch takes Harry to the soccer field. Scanning around, there are only five other students in this class. Twelve in his first class, six in his second. Maybe three in his third? Hooch divides everyone into groups of two. A slim boy who dresses like the boy who sent Harry to the football stadium is paired with an energetic blonde girl. A tall pinkish boy is paired with a droll girl. The boy from the hall is paired with Harry. There are three cars, each with monitors. Hooch will be supervising each and spontaneously locking a side of each car. The pairs must drive together.

 

Harry is shoved into the passenger seat of a silver car as his partner gains control of the driver’s. Harry looks down at the controls, confused as to the fact he’s used to either riding in the floorboard or in the trunk. The car starts up and they are off. Back at the school, Hooch sets course on the GPS and locks the bigger boy’s steering. The car begins to spiural out of control when Harry grips the wheel in front of him and gives it a hard tug, toward the other side of the road. He carefully tests the pedals on the floor, finding the accelorator. He manages to get the hang of it, only to be pulled over for speeding. The locks are switched when needed to pull over. The bigger boy drives them the rest of the way back to school.

 

“Very well done, Vincent.” Hooch praises him. “Harry? Can I see you?”

 

The bell rings as Harry stays after and the other kids leave. “This was your first time driving, wasn’t it?”

 

“That easy to tell?” He blushes.

 

She nods with a pursed smile. “You’ll get used to it. On another note, you have excellent hand-to-eye coordination. How about you try out for the baseball team?”

 

“I don’t know how to play, Ma’am.”

 

“Go talk with Coach Umbridge and ask for Bill Weasley. He is a legend for the team.”

 

“Yes, Ma’am.”

 

Harry turns away and runs for the school. There is not a lot of time to spare as he slips through the doors and stops. Not three. There are sixteen students in this class. He slides in at a desk in back when there is a loud booming noise from the front. A set of redheaded twins jump up with soot on their faces. They quickly grab their belongings and run out, with four others.

 

“Now, the older students have finished destroying my lab…” A raven-haired man speaks in a most sinister way. “Maybe we can get down to business. Everyone will be splitting up to his or her labs. Weasley, with Parkinson. Zabini, with Crabbe. Goyle, with Bulstrode. Longbottom, with Lovegood. Malfoy, with our new Mr. Potter.”

 

Harry had seen Ron go with a pug-nosed girl. A refined-looking boy went with the big-boned boy. The slim boy from Driver’s Ed went with the droll girl from the same class. A clumsy boy with a high-spirited girl. The pale blond who had yelled at him in the hall before school began is glaring now. Harry remembers the name. Malfoy. He silently gathers his things and joins Malfoy at the lab table.

 

The teacher, Snape, hands out vague instructions for each pair to follow. Malfoy snatches the paper from Harry’s hands, slamming a pile of bay leaf incisors in front of him. Harry looks at him expectantly when Malfoy pulls a pocketknife from his pocket. The blade swings out and Malfoy guts the table between Harry’s hands.

 

“Cut off the ends.”

 

Harry obediently follows Malfoy’s orders, drowning out the rest of the class. Regrettably, he accidentally slices a little too deep into one of the flakes. Malfoy snatches his knife, nearly cutting Harry’s hand in the process. He lowers his voice, growling at the boy across from him.

 

“That is not a fucking end. Where’s your mind… Scarhead?” Malfoy has forgotten his name and improvises by noticing a mark between his scraggly bangs.

 

Harry flushes. He doesn’t like to have the scar brought to attention. He swallows his nerve and blinks back. Malfoy mutters some choice obscenities under his breath before returning to the task at hand.


End file.
